


I'll get a rise out of you

by CastielsCarma



Series: Kinktober 2020 [19]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Baker Dean Winchester, Baking Puns, Blow Jobs, Christmas Party, Hate Sex, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Pastry Chef Castiel, Snowballing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:14:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27110089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastielsCarma/pseuds/CastielsCarma
Summary: Dean finds himself at a Christmas party. He hates Christmas and he hates one co-worker named Castiel.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Kinktober 2020 [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949407
Comments: 12
Kudos: 89





	I'll get a rise out of you

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, another day! This is my prompt for day 19 of Kinktober: Cockwarming, mirror sex, or **hate sex**.
> 
> Well, who doesn't love bread and cookies and cakes and bickering Dean and Cas? =D
> 
> Enjoy! Kudos and comments water my heart!

Dean has a complicated relationship with Christmas.

He loves the whole aesthetic about the holiday; the gifts, the fudge and gingerbread cookies, the carols – although he mutters about saccharine songs when Sam is around – but he _doesn't_ like the whole family business.

His father does his yearly call where he starts with apologizing for being a shitty dad which then morphs into the usual speech about how Dean is a failure and disappointment and the very reason the Winchester name is being dragged in the mud. And his mother... well, the dead don't make house calls.

Dean swallows down the last of his mulled wine and grimaces. Too fucking sweet for his taste. Michael had downed the last beer an hour ago, so Dean has to make do with sipping on kiddie-juice. The crowd was starting to thin out – thank fuck – which meant that he could probably leave in twenty minutes.

He loves his work and coworkers – save one – but hates office parties.

Charlie had already left with Dorothy. Benny had abandoned him and was nibbling on a cookie while being engrossed in chit-chat with Andrea – the newbie baker – and by the way he was talking they were ready to bounce too.

Dean pointedly ignores the man that whispers together with Michael. He swallows the last of the sweet nonalcoholic wine and tosses the plastic cup in the bin. He can as well leave now.

“Dean, thank you so much. I really appreciate it.” Michael walks up to him and grabs him by the shoulder.

“Uh, sure. Appreciate what?”

Michael furrows his brow but then flashes a smile. He's young for being the boss of a bakery but he's good, really good. Dean knows he studied in France and Sweden before coming back to the US to start his own bakery and cafe. “To clean up together with Castiel.”

Dean exhales air through his nose. Cas. Of-fucking-course. Andrea was the newbie baker but Cas came a close second. Not that Cas was bad at what he did; he was just an asshole.

“I have the first shift tomorrow. What about Cas and Benny?”

Michael shakes his head. “He's already left.”

Dean takes a quick look around the place, and sure enough, he's nowhere to be found. He's about to ask what about you, but remembers that Michael put together all the food, and rented the place... and picked the music. He sighs. “Alright, fine.”

Michael beams. “Appreciate it. Here are the keys so you can lock up as you leave. I'll see you tomorrow and Merry Christmas.”

Dean grabs the keys and fishes out his phone. Five hours left until he has to get up. He shoves his phone back in his pocket. Fucking hell. He can't wait for his days off.

Castiel walks up to him as Michael leaves.

Dean can't help but stare. Sure, he sees Cas every day in his double-breasted jacket and that long apron he wears. And Dean might have checked out Cas' ass in those tight-fitting baker pants. But this is Cas in jeans and a nice light blue shirt – no tie – and he looks fucking gorgeous. Dean hates that he finds Cas gorgeous. He places the keys on the table.

“You ready to clean up?”

Dean shrugs. “Sure. Don't know why you said my name though. I have to be at work in _five_ hours.”

Cas' eyes widen. “Oh, yeah. Sorry, I didn't realize that you had to get up so early. It slipped my mind.” He flashes a smile.

Dean scoffs and walks past Cas. His arm bumps against Cas' shoulder as he heads for the serving table.

“A lot of things slip your mind.”

He grabs a plastic bag and shoves down half-eaten paper plates with food, cakes, and empty paper cups.

Cas is in the kitchen and loads up the dishwasher. “It was a nice Christmas party. I think everyone had a good time.”

Dean is silent. He picks up some cake from the floor and realizes he has to mop it too. Son of a bitch. And over there he has Mr. Holiday Spirit prattling on about Christmas. At work, Dean has good reason to avoid him since their workstations are the furthest apart from each other and Cas seems adamant to make that up now.

“Mm, yeah. It was the best.” Dean tries to keep his tone light but he obviously fails since Cas comes out from the kitchen. “Is everything alright?”

Dean turns and swallows. Cas has his shirt sleeves unbuttoned and pulled up, showing off strong underarms. It doesn't help that the fucking shirt makes his eyes practically glow. “Yeah, everything is peachy. Why?”

Cas' people skills are obviously rusty because the dude can't take a hint. Instead of backing off, he's almost in Dean's face.

Dean takes a step back. “Personal space, Cas.” He turns and sees a paper towel on the table. Grabbing it, he bends down and starts picking up the smaller pieces of cream, crumbs, and cake.

As he looks up, Cas is there at his level. “You seem upset.”

Dean backs away. “You wanna clean the floor or should I?”

Cas hands him some cleaning spray. “There is nothing wrong with accepting help, Dean.”

Dean squirts cleaning spray aggressively, so a soft mist of chemicals saturate the air around them. “Oh, I know that Cas. You know what _would_ help? You not taking the Manitoba flour when I had prepped everything perfectly.”

Cas' narrows his eyes but his tone is still light. “I didn't take it. I moved it. I was preparing the princess cakes. I assume you didn't want pastry cream in your dough.”

“Thank you and excuse me. I didn't know there was supposed to be no cream in my Swedish flatbread.” Dean doesn't wait for Cas' answer; he starts rubbing at the stains on the floor instead. A foul scent hits his nose. “What the fuck,” Dean whispers under his breath.

He gets up and squints at the bottle. Taking a whiff, he realizes it smells of vinegar. He grinds his teeth. What kind of psycho uses vinegar for cleaning, and more importantly, doesn't label the stuff?

He looks at Cas who is cleaning the tables. He's pulled out every chair and wipes the surfaces thoroughly. Then he pushes the chairs back in. Dean leaves the spray bottle on the floor and goes to the kitchenette. In the cupboard under the sink, he finds the right cleaning spray.

He goes back to the spot and sprays it again. Finally, the stains come off. Dean looks around the room. Everything is in as good shape as it will get. It's not like the party had been the cocktail and suit- type. Just causal bakers moping around until the yeast was over. Dean chuckles.  
  
“What's so funny?” Cas calls.

Not you. “Nothing.”

Dean grabs a mop and has almost finished mopping the floor when Cas grabs him by the arm. He's stronger than he looks and to his fucking horror Dean's cock stirs. He is hot, Dean will give him that... the way a gold-encrusted fresh turd is hot.

“I gotta ask you, now that we're alone and everything...” Cas' eyes narrow and there's something with that gaze that makes Dean feel shit he's not about to admit he feels to anyone, let alone Cas. “What's your problem?”

“What the fuck do you mean?”

Cas lets go of him and points a finger between us. “This. You and me.”

“I don't know what the fuck you're talking about.” He leans the mop on the wall and tries to walk around Cas when Cas steps in front of him.  
  
“Then allow me to enlighten you.”

He smells of nice cologne and salt, and something undefinable that Dean realizes is just Cas. “I didn't ask you to.”

“You don't have a choice in the matter. You've been angry like a bear ever since we met and I'm fucking tired of it. Don't want wrinkles to mar that pretty face of yours.”

Dean is equally amused at Cas – Mr. Perfect pastry guy cursing – as he is pissed that Cas is gonna lecture him about shitty behavior.

Cas' voice is steel. “You give me attitude, even when I'm just making small talk. Everyone else you laugh with or make bad jokes with. You ask them how their weekend has been, but I'm invisible to you. Just now you just assume I do you harm just because.”

Dean scoffs. “You gave me the vinegar bottle.” Cas is so close now that they are almost chest to chest.

“I didn't do it on _purpose_. Although with that attitude, one would think you drink that stuff.”

Cas' eyes are burning – and yeah, not good that he's pissed but it sure makes his eyes pop – and as Dean's gaze flicker to his lips, they seem fuller. What Dean wouldn't do to just have a taste, a bite. “Oh, don't worry. I don't need vinegar when I can just be around you.”

Cas glares at Dean. “You're insufferable.”

Just then it hits Dean. Did – did Cas just say he had a pretty face?

Anger still courses through him but now arousal threatens to override that heat in his body. Cas is hot, Dean confesses to that but that's where it ends.

He has dark, unruly hair that Dean wants to make even messier, and his blue eyes are unreal. They're so intense as to belong to an angel or ancient God instead of a plain mortal. And from what Dean has seen of Cas in his shirt and tight baker pants, he's thick in all the right places. But that just means Dean finds Cas hot. It's not like he _likes_ the guy. He's still a fucking douchebag.

“Oh, the only thing insufferable is you with your proper attitude. 'Don't mind me, I have very important petite-choux's to make'.”

Cas' breath is hot on his face. “I've never once said or even _implied_ that I think I'm better than you just because you're not a pasty chef.”

“You calling me pasty?”

Cas' narrows his eyes. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

Dean licks his lips and tries to ignore the way Cas' groin presses against his own. He lowers his voice. “Did you call me pretty just then?”

Cas looks stunned for a second as he tries to recollect all the things he's probably said to Dean during the last five minutes. “I – um...”

Dean grabs Cas' by the hair and melds their mouths together. He can sense Cas freeze up for a split second before he relaxes in Dean's arms.

If someone would've asked Dean how the Christmas party would end one hour ago, this wouldn't even be on his top hundred.

Cas' mouth is hot and welcome and they kiss like the world is dark and full of terrors and their union is the only thing that lights it up.

Dean breaks off the kiss. His chest heaves – damn, Cas is a good kisser – and he licks his lips. “Don't think this changes anything. I'm just drunk.”

Cas tightens his grip on Dean's hair and angles his face away from him. “Oh, I don't have any illusions. Besides, I don't date guys that can't even get the macaron shells nice and shiny.”

The audacity.

Dean lets his hands wander down Cas' shirt as he yanks free from his grip. He leaves hot kisses on Cas' throat and grins when he hears him moan. “You just have to sift the almond flour properly, can't leave it too clumpy.” He rips the top part of Cas' shirt. The buttons make a soft sound as they land on the floor. “Still not dating you.”

“That was a nice shirt, “ Cas says darkly.

Dean will never admit to how instantly his cock hardens at Cas' tone. “Cry me a fucking river.”

Cas shrugs and turns Dean quickly, pushing him against the wall so hard that he grunts in surprise. He grinds his groin against Dean's ass. “I think I can make you wet those pretty lashes of yours.”

Holy hell, Dean can't contain the moan. It escapes him, pushing past lips that crave the taste of Cas. Dean arches his back against Cas. A flash of arousal goes through him as he feels Cas' hard cock against his ass.

“The only ones who will cry are the patrons tasting your saffron buns.”

Cas' breath is hot on his ear. “What's wrong with my buns?”

Dean sighs. “Oh, your buns. From the way they fill out those pants, I'd say nothing at all.”

“You're such a smartass.” Cas slaps him hard on the ass. “The _saffron_ buns.”

Fucking hell. Proper pastry chefs were full of surprises if you just poked at their apron a bit. “Nothing. But you need to grind the saffron first, release all that flavor.”

Cas scoffs. “Oh, don't you worry. I know exactly where” – Cas' pushes his clad erection against Dean's ass before pulling back, – and “ _how” –_ he presses against Dean again, causing him to moan – “to grind.”

Dean turns again, wanting to savor Cas' mouth again. He kisses Cas with all the passion and frustration he's carried towards him for months.

He drops his hands and starts unbuckling his belt. “Still not sure about that release, Cas.”

Cas smirks and pushes away Dean's hands. He unzips Dean's pants slowly. The fucking tease.

In one fluid motion, Cas is on his knees and pulls down his boxers.

He grabs Dean's cock with ease and a sense of confidence that's hot as hell. Like he's already claimed Dean in some sense that even he doesn't perceive. “Oh, I'll bake sure of it.”

Dean shakes his head. “Did you just make a fucking baking pun in the middle of – “ He gasps out loud when Cas takes him in his mouth. Without preamble, Cas starts sucking his cock like he's a pro and by all that's holy – he's not only a pro – he's a God.

With closed eyes, Dean still finds Cas hair and runs his fingers through it. His cock has been on edge for far too long and as Cas' makes his tongue flat and licks at the underside it feels too good not to move his hips slowly inside Cas mouth.

A hand cups his balls gently and Dean has to squeeze his toes. He can't fucking cum yet, that won't do. Especially not when Cas makes horrible puns.

Their eyes meet as he sucks Dean off and Cas looks way too pleased about himself, the dick. His eyes look amazing, _he_ looks amazing like that. “Fuck, you're hot, Cas.”

Cas pauses briefly and flashes Dean a smile. “Mm”, he hums before continuing.

“Don't get too cookie.”

Cas ignores him and keeps sucking his cock like he was made for it. He kisses the head, purple and leaking precum.

Soon, Dean feels that tightening. As if that wasn't enough, Cas decides just at that moment to swallow Dean down. He stays there, as his hands dig into Dean's thighs.

Dean leans his head back against the wall. The roar of his pulse is loud and the way Cas swallows around his cock is too much. “Cas, fucking hell – I'ma – “ He groans as Cas does something with his tongue and his mouth and Dean stills for a second. He only manages to grunt low before he spills.

He feels how Cas swallows all of his come, sucking him until he's dry and sensitive. Only then does he let go.

“Wow, Cas, that was – “

Cas gets up and moves in close again, his lips teasing Dean's. His hands grab Dean's face as his thumbs stroke his cheeks gently.

Dean opens up and kisses him.

He realizes that Cas hasn't swallowed as he pushes Dean's come inside his mouth. The sheer power of that move – of Cas' being that fucking sure of himself – is almost too much. Another wave of arousal goes through him as he tastes himself, bitter and salt. He swallows all that Cas gives him.

His cock twitches at the sheer hotness of it.

Cas pulls away almost tenderly and licks his lips. “Better swallow all of that, Dean. You just cleaned the floor.”

Dean exhales and can't stop the smile that breaks out. “Who the fuck are you, Cas? You weirdough.”

Cas grins at the wordplay. “I'm just your annoyingly hot pastry chef.”

Dean laughs. “Yeah, tell me about it.” He tucks himself away and pulls up his pants. “So uh, what's next?”

Cas shrugs but there's a sparkle in his eyes. “We grab the keys and lock up. You catch some sleep. You need to be up soon for work.”

Disappointment lurches in his stomach. “Oh, yeah. What about you?”

“Depends. Bed or couch but I hope your bed is big enough for two.”

Dean smiles. “I think maybe the couch. I don't think my bed is big enough for a pastry chef's ego.”

Cas chuckles as he gives him a swift kiss on the cheek. “Shut up and let's go.”  
  
Maybe this Christmas wouldn't turn out to be so bad after all.


End file.
